


Save The Last Dance For Me

by boundxdoll



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Gallavich, Hurt/Comfort, Ian and Mickey - Freeform, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-28
Updated: 2014-02-28
Packaged: 2018-01-14 01:54:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1248325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boundxdoll/pseuds/boundxdoll
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mickey and Ian are going on their first real date together, out somewhere in the public eye. They go to a gay bar, and mickey finally let himself relax. Nothing could go wrong on a night like this right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Save The Last Dance For Me

Part 1:

All it takes is one moment of courage. 

Mickey had been struggling with the notion of going someplace out in the open with Ian. Someplace where he could be himself without having to hide behind his tatted up knuckles. He’d put it off and put it off, but finally after weeks of having time to stew about it, he finally decided that he’d swallow his fears and just do it. What could it hurt? They were going to go somewhere farther away so that no Southsiders could see Mickey and run and tell his brothers since Terry was in Jail, and wasn’t as much of a concern. 

When Mickey told Ian he had made his decision it made the redhead more excited than Mickey had ever seen him. They’d go tonight before Mickey could change his mind. It was all pretty simple, shower, get dressed sort of nice and borrow the car since nobody was using it. 

“Alright, let’s do this.” Mickey finally said as he stood in the doorway looking at Ian once he was ready. 

“Are you sure about this?” Ian asked looking him over, boy sure cleaned up nice.

“Yeah, now let’s go.” The cleaned-up-dirty-boy replied gruffly rubbing his hand over his face as he headed towards the door. “I’mma go warm up the car.” He called back to Ian heading out to wait for the redhead. Sitting in the car he lit himself a cigarette, mostly just letting it burn as he sat there thinking. It wasn’t until Ian came out that he realized he wasted the cancer stick and threw it out the open window. 

“Alright, it’s up about 100 blocks away in Lake Forest.” Ian said handing Mickey a piece of paper with the address on it as he got comfortable in the passenger seat. It was obvious by his demeanor that Ian was excited, he finally got to go out somewhere, public, with the person he cared most about. 

"Alright I think I know how to get to that street. You can look out for the address." Putting the piece of paper somewhere safe so it didn't get lost. Most of the ride was silent as he drove them to the location, too much talking and Mickey might lose his nerve. It had taken a war in his own mind to even get himself to this point. Parking the car he looked over at Ian and let out a breath. “Ready?” Mickey had to ask, because part of him wasn’t. 

“Yeah, let’s go.” Ian replied his tone soft, trying to be assuring to the thug he knew was struggling. “It’ll be fine Mick, nobody around here even goes near Southside.” They were in a pretty nice area, and they weren’t going to a club, they were going to a bar. Ian leaned over and gave Mickey a peck on the cheek before getting out of the car and shutting the door making his way to meet him at the driver’s side. 

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Mickey breathed out chewing on his bottom lip as Ian kissed his cheek. He still wasn’t used to that sort of thing. He might never be. Getting out of the car he looked from Ian to across the street at the bar. “Here goes.” Another breath lost to words as he shyly took Ian’s hand and let the redhead lead him towards their first real date. The scenery inside wasn’t like he expected, he had been expecting some sort of ‘fag fest’ or something that looked like a unicorn shit rainbows and vomited glitter on. So when that wasn’t what he saw, the cleaned up male was pretty surprised. “It’s a whole lot less faggy than I thought.” Mickey muttered low enough only Ian could hear him. 

The redhead laughed and shook his head gripping Mickey’s hand tight in his own. “Try not to say that sort of thing in here, somebody might get offended, bar fights are not nice dates.” Because Ian had to say things like this. Leading him into the establishment he found them a table to sit at and left Mickey there for a few moments while he ordered them a pitcher. 

In the interim while Ian was gone Mickey noticed he was being stared at by some guy off in the corner. Sure it caught him off guard, he’d never been anywhere that you could be have like that. You didn’t do that in Southside, you might get shot. He passed a glance at the guy, but otherwise ignored him completely. Mickey had no interest in other men, he only really had eyes for Ian. When Ian came back to the table Mickey indicated subtly over his shoulder. “Some dude is checking me out.” Mickey whispered as if the guy had ears of a bat or something. “It’s fuckin’ weird hell didn’t he see me come in here with you? Jesus fuck.” 

“He can look all he wants, you’re mine,” Ian replied with a shit eating grin on his face, taking Mickey’s hand in his own. “You’re going to dance with me tonight, just so you know.” The redhead informed him, not leaving much room for an argument. Ian smiled to the waiter who brought them their pitcher and glasses, pouring them each one as he left. 

“I’d prefer if he didn’t look at me at all.” Mickey grumbled, but succumbed to Ian’s chirper mood because despite trying desperately he couldn’t stay grumpy around Ian, not when they were like this. His brow arched far up into his forehead when Ian mentioned dancing. “You want me to dance with you…you gotta be kidding. What makes you think I can dance?” The darker haired male asked, his voice getting a little nervous. Mickey can’t remember a time when he had danced with another person, let alone in public. Come to think of it he doesn’t remember ever dancing with another person. “Yeah, alright fine, but not until I’ve had a few in me.”

\----------------------------------------

All it took was six glasses of beer, four shots of the cheapest whiskey, and a moment of incredible courage before he was up on the dancefloor with Ian. Mickey wasn’t the most untalented dancer in the world, but he sure as hell wouldn’t be making it on Dancing With the Stars anytime soon. He was feeling good, letting loose and it was something that he hadn’t done in a very long time, and never before in a way like this. It was fun and Ian was happy. That was the whole point of this whole evening, to give them something they didn’t have; normality, a chance to be more like the couple they were. 

Both of them had danced for a while, enjoyed the feeling of writhing against one another to the beat of music with heavy dance. The real moment of truth came during the slow dance when Mickey had kissed Ian in front of an entire room of people. When he let himself be as open as he could in the public eye of this gay bar just 100 blocks away from their neighborhood. It was safe here, it felt safe here. It felt like Mickey could be okay with his own sexuality. 

Several songs later they were laced in sweat Mickey’s button up clinging to his chest. Back at their table they ordered another pitcher, it wasn’t until halfway through that Ian excused himself to the bathroom. That was when the man from earlier decided to make his move. Mickey had been fishing a cigarette from his pocket, the man’s shadow overcasting the table almost hadn’t been enough to catch his attention. Mickey looked up at the man and reminded himself to be as polite as he could. “Uh, can I help you?” The ghetto boy asked his eyes staying on the stranger cautiously. 

“I wanted to ask you to dance, since your boyfriend isn’t around.” The man asked with an eerily soft tone for such a broad man. 

“Yeah, no thanks, because my uh boyfriend wouldn’t appreciate me ditching him, and you ain’t exactly my type, do I look like I fuck with older dudes?” Mickey was barely containing the hostility in his tone. “I like redheads, but that’s obvious ain’t it, go find somebody else. Some advice tho’? Stay away from dudes who came in with somebody, ain’t no fuckin’ body gonna drop their boyfriend to bust a nut in you.” There it went, like the filter between his brain and mouth just snapped. Mickey Milkovich was a one man kind of guy, and he had his one man. 

“Fuck you very much.” The guy hissed moving away from the table, his feelings obviously hurt

It was beautifully spot on timing however, because once the other guy had left Ian returned, as if to make a point Mickey kissed Ian hard and openly on the mouth, eliciting a purr of approval from his redhead. “Took you long enough, now I gotta take a piss. You can go out on that dancefloor while you wait, shit I don’t even care if you dance with somebody, but save the last dance for me aiight?” Mickey grinned, knowing full well that Ian wouldn’t dance with anyone, he knew how violent Mickey could be, and there was no way he believed that the offer was realistic. 

“Heh, I’ll keep that in mind, but I’d kinda just rather dance with you.” Ian grinned, taking a sip of his beer, lighting himself a cigarette to occupy his time. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Mickey teased before heading off towards the bathroom. 

It was pretty empty, but then again this was a bar not a raving nightclub. It was a few moments later and he was washing his hands when the guy from earlier came up behind him. It all happened so fast, Mickey had turned around to leave when the fist connected with his face. Dazed Mickey stumbled backwards but caught himself on the back of the sink. “What the fuck?!” He half shouted, throwing a punch right back at the guy only for his fist to be caught. This was rare for Mickey, to be outmatched in a brawl. 

“You shouldn’t have been so rude.” The man hissed at him as he squeezed Mickey’s knuckles in his powerful grip. This wasn’t a small guy, and there was a lot of rage behind his grip. His 6’4 height towered over Mickey. He drew back his fist to take another punch, but Mickey was small, and even with his one arm caught by the male he still ducked and barreled into the stranger, shoving him into the wall and managing a harsh blow to his ribs. 

“You don’t wanna fuck with me dude.” Mickey growled, but his malice was stripped from his expression when he felt a sharp pain in his stomach, faltering he looked down to see the knife he never saw coming protruding from his stomach. Wide eyed he can taste copper in the back of his throat, but he’s a Milkovich, he’s not going to stop fighting. As the knife is removed and his hand is let go Mickey realizes it was the only thing keeping him steady, The mixture of alcohol and blood loss was going to be his undoing. 

The man wasn’t done adding insult to injury, he had a vendetta against the shorter male. It was obvious in his expression that he was relishing in Mickey’s woozy demeanor. He pulled the male flush against him, holding Mickey’s head to his chest as he swayed for a few moments, unphased by the blood on his shirt. All he wanted was a dance, and now he’d be getting one. However, the stranger played it smart, he knew that Mickey’s boyfriend would come looking eventually. Zipping up his leather jacket after letting Mickey’s body from to the floor with a thud, he turned and left the bathroom, leaving Mickey to bleed out on the floor alone, with the room spinning.

\---------------------------------------------

Too much time had passed and Ian was getting worried, he abandoned the table, heading into the bathroom, he hadn’t seen anyone aside from one person, and that person wasn’t Mickey. Shoving open the bathroom door his eyes landed on Mickey and his jaw fell open all sound becoming mute around him as he crashed to his knees beside him, checking Mickey for a pulse as he fumbled for his phone dialing 9-1-1. While he was on the phone Mickey came too briefly, coughing up some blood, the crimson liquid dribbling down his chin. 

“Ian…” Mickey choked out.

“Shh, don’t talk, the ambulance is on it’s way.” Ian replied, his voice hollow, too many emotions to process at the moment. 

“Am I gonna die?” Mickey whimpered, his face paler from the loss of blood, his eyes glassy. 

“No, shut up, don’t talk like that, you’re going to be fine.” Ian practically sobbed as he put his hand over the wound applying pressure. Leaning down the redhead nuzzled his boyfriend’s cheek with his nose. “You’re going to be fine I promise, just trust me.” 

“I trust you.” Mickey managed as the darkness crept in again, lulling him into a state of unconsciousness. His thoughts were of Ian, his dream, the things that passed through his mind as he laid there fighting to hold on for the only thing that mattered in his life. Remembering Ian’s smile, the way he laughs, the sounds he makes when first waking up, his smell, and god those beautiful eyes. He’d fight Death himself tooth and nail before he left this world. 

The ambulance came, taking Mickey out of the bar on a stretcher with an oxygen mask on his face, providing the air he was struggling to obtain on his own. He was so close to losing himself to dying. He’d be proud if he knew Ian forced his way into the back of the ambulance, refusing to leave his side. He’d be happy to know Ian was there, but the only thing he knew was black right now. 

He was rushed to intensive care, the O.R. where they stabilized him, but it was still hit and miss. Mickey’s body was fighting to stay alive and that was obvious, and the chances were high, but it was still an uphill battle. Once they were sure he’d make it the night a Doctor came into the waiting room to talk to Ian. 

The news was better than he had been anticipating. He had feared for the worst and prayed to every known higher power in existence, he had threatened god, and made vows at revenge if his dirty boy was taken from him. In the hours of nervous waiting Ian had thought of ever hope and dream crashing down and burning into ash. There was a chance they’d never get to live together, never get to share a full and happy life, never marry, never adopt children, never experience more than what they already had. They may never dance again, and in those moments when hope was the only thing he had left to grab onto Ian had made a vow that he would forever be saving the last dance for Mickey Milkovich. 

It was nearly one in the morning before one of the hospital staff members told Ian that he could see Mickey. Never before had the redhead been more nervous. His entire body shook with fear as he followed the woman to Mickey’s room. The sight of him laid up in the hospital bed hooked up to machines, looking helpless made fresh tears cut down Ian’s cheeks. He’d told Mandy what happened, and she was on her way, he would have told her sooner, but he could barely comprehend what had happened let alone call anyone. 

On legs that felt like they were made of tree limbs he walked solemnly to Mickey’s bedside and sat down in the chair provided for him. He took the boy’s hand in his own and kissed across his fuck u-up knuckles. “I’m so sorry this happened to you...if you pull through this I won’t ever ask you to take me out like that again, just please Mickey you gotta come back to me.” Ian whispered to the currently unconscious male. “You’re not allowed to die, not now, not today, not for a very long time, and not like this. 

Ian had bowed his head to pray again but stopped even before he could start when he felt Mickey’s hand grip his tighter. His head lifted, looking up into the other male’s face. “Mickey?” 

“Heey, Ian…” The morphine making him a little loopy. “Are you alright?” Mickey asked him, concerned because he could see the heartbreak and despair on Ian’s face. 

“I’m alright now,” Ian admitted, reaching with long fingers to stroke Mickey’s hair. “I was so fucking scared…”

“I’m gonna be alright, I got you to take care of me.” Because no matter how strong Mickey is, he’s going to need a lot more than just physical care after this. He’d need the comfort of the man he loves. He’d need the assurance and the support. He had felt so safe, so secure despite his flaws and insecurities at that bar. He’d really relaxed there, but now he wasn’t sure he’d want to try that again. 

“I’ll take care of you.” Ian promised with a nod, cracking a small smile. “Doctor said you could be discharged as early as tomorrow morning, and as late as being kept here for about three days maybe more. When you get home though, you got nothing to worry about, I’ll take care of you in any way you need.” Ian paused chewing on his bottom lip, just admiring his perfection. Even with dried blood there he was perfection. “I’m so sorry this happened...if you don’t wanna--” 

“Shut up. Stop talking like that. It’s not your fault. Shit happens, and I’m gonna live, you ain’t the prick you knifed me so stop talking like you are.” Mickey growled, resolved to the idea of being taken care of once he was out of here. Mickey craved affection something fierce. 

\--And Ian would give it to him.

 

Part 2.

 

Mickey had been stuck in the hospital for three full days before they released him. Needless to say Mickey would have walked the hell out if it hadn’t been for Ian making him stay. He had stitches in his stomach, a bandage wrapped around him so his range of movement was limited. Ian had insisted, begged and pleaded that Mickey stay in bed most of the time. The older male had begrudgingly agreed. It was his first day out and Mickey was already restless. “Can’t I just do this bedrest thing on the couch?” Mickey whined as he laid on the bed looking at the redhead who sat at the foot of it. 

“Mickey, the point of bedrest is being in your bed and resting. I’ve seen you play xbox, you’ll rip your stitches out,” Ian laughed shaking his head. “Are you hungry?” Because Ian said he would take care of him, and that was the boy’s intent. With soft eyes he gazed upon his injured lover, the person who had trusted him so much had gotten hurt because he had been pouting over a date. It was stupid to blame himself, neither of them had seen the night turning out badly like it did. 

"I know, I know, fuck just I feel useless." Mickey admitted with a grunt, looking up at Ian, he could see it, the guilt he carried on his shoulders like he was carrying the weight of the world. "Sure, I could use something to eat that wasn't made in the county hospital," trying to lighten the mood with a chuckle, and hiding the wince that it caused him. "Just throw some pizza bagels in the oven or something," Mickey suggested, knowing full well they probably didn't have much food in the house. 

Ian shook his head, letting out a sigh. "You're not useless, you got hurt, stop talking down on yourself like that." Putting his hand on Mickey's knee he caressed the bare skin with ghost like touches. "Alright, I'll be right back, just gonna preheat the oven." Pushing off the bed Ian left the room, leaving the door open he wasn't gone but a couple of minutes before he was crawling onto the bed beside Mickey, careful not to hurt him. 

 

Mickey barely had a chance to miss him in the brief amount of time that Ian was gone, he did however have enough time to struggle with finding a comfortable position to lay in. Finally when he couldn't take being horizontal he piled the pillows up behind him and sat up as comfortably as he could possibly get. "Don't get too comfortable, the oven won't take long," Mickey grinned wrapping his arm around Ian's shoulders gingerly, having to be careful not to let Ian know it hurt to stretch in that way. 

Ian rolled his eyes at the comment, and propped himself up on his elbow leaning towards Mickey and pressing his lips against warm flesh, his fingers tracing the bandage. "I'm sorry that this happened, I really am. If you never wanna go out with me again I understand." Ian whispered as he caressed and stroked his long pale fingers across Mickey's chest. The raw emotions of guilt and sadness laced in Ian’s otherwise soft and happy tone, the thug was easily able to pick up on it, he knew that feeling well after all.

“What the hell do you have to be sorry for? I told you to stop apologizing, I’m alive, you didn’t hurt me, none of it is your fault.” Mickey murmured back to him. Stroking along Ian’s spine, it seemed they both needed the comfort right now. “Look, it’s gonna take more than getting stabbed for me to not wanna leave the house again, let alone take you out.” His words were firm, because he cared and he didn’t want Ian to be blaming it on himself. 

The redhead let out a sigh, he knew he wouldn’t be winning this argument anytime soon, because Mickey wasn’t going to let him, and he was grateful for it deep down. Even if he wouldn’t admit that that right now. "You mean you still wanna go out after that?" Ian asked meekly looking up at Mickey with bright green eyes. He wouldn't have thought that Mickey would even consider it after what happened but apparently he couldn't be more wrong. "I just thought..." Ian started to say but silenced himself. 

"You just thought what? That I got hurt so I don't wanna go out now? That I don't wanna go out now? That I'm gonna cower in my house like a bitch?" Mickey huffed yanking Ian closer to him and kissing him hard on the mouth. His lips moving in a way that he hoped to erase every worry and doubt. Only breaking the kiss after several moments to look into Ian's eyes. "I'll be damned if some punk is gonna stop me from taking my boyfriend out once in a while." Offering Ian his tough guy grin he nudged him lightly. "I think the oven is preheated." Mickey chuckled not letting his tone give way whether it was a double entendre or not. 

"No--I--that's--no--" Ian gave up on talking after a moment, frowning because he never meant to insinuate that Mickey was a bitch. However the moment that Mickey's lips connected with his own every worry, every fear, all of it was washed away. Mickey had a tendency to be able to do that to him, he could make him feel like everything was going to be fine, and Ian trusted him when most people didn’t see him worth that. Gazing back into Mickey’s eyes believing every word like the gospel truth, his heart swimming with elation when Mickey called him his boyfriend. “It’s not the only thing that’s preheated.” Ian said hotly, pushing off of the bed and heading out to put the food in the oven. 

Mickey watched him go, grinning to himself only to hear his phone go off he reached to the side, looking at the text on the screen. _“It’s been taken care of.”_ That was all the text from Mandy said, and it made him grin even broader. That means she found the guy who had stabbed him, and that means he wouldn’t be a problem ever again. Mickey didn’t even need to reply to it, he just deleted the text and set his phone down. Now Mickey could let Ian take care of him without any worries. 

_\--and he would be damned if he let anything stop him from showing Ian the time he deserves._


End file.
